


if only the lonely

by sweetsymphony



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambivalent Harry, Dark Humor, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, No Bashing, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Sirius Lives, Slytherin Harry Potter, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:29:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsymphony/pseuds/sweetsymphony
Summary: Harry Potter just wants spend his sixth year at Hogwarts being captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, finally getting into his crush's pants and earning an O in Intro to Alchemy.Unfortunately, this is starting to seem impossible.





	if only the lonely

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what I'm doing here and I definitely should not be starting any new stories, but I really had an itch that needed scratching. Pleeeeeaaaassseee let me know if this worth continuing.

**one.**

 

“Come now Potter, let’s see your timetable then.” Sixth-year Slytherin Daphne Greengrass waggled her perfectly manicured fingernails in Harry Potters face, and made a grabby gesture for the slip of paper gripped tightly in his hands. Her downturned, ice blue eyes flitted over the script quickly before she sighed in dismay and tossed the offending letter back in his chest with a harumph. “Truly and utterly despicable! Blaise commiserate with me won’t you, good saint Potter does it yet again. Tell me oh ‘Chosen One’ do you _ever_  tire of being the worlds biggest prat?” 

“Astronomy, DoDA, Ancient Runes, Charms, Potions and _Alchemy_? Merlin’s tits Potter, who the hell approved you for Alchemy?” Blaise Zabini peered over her knit covered shoulder to look at the schedule himself, disbelief coloring his normally dulcet tone and thick, perfectly groomed eyebrows arched in question. His striking face, normally the perfect picture of stone indifference, was almost surprised, chiseled features arranged into an artful sort of shock. Like a beautiful sculpture suprised to find himself come to life.

The pair shot unimpressed identical frowns at Harry who sat across from them on the train cart struggling desperately to clasp the last of the buttons on his rumpled oxford. 

As was tradition he had decided to wait until the last possible moment to change out of his muggle clothes and into his Hogwarts uniform which had laid crumpled in his rucksack throughout the duration of the train ride, and was now doing his best to dress under the watchful _(and endlessly judgmental)_ eye of his two closest friends.

“Jealousy is quite unbecoming, I’ll have you both know. Especially you Daphne. How will you ever find a beau with such a domineering attitude.” Harry sneered jokingly, and dodged when a pale fist hurtled toward his arm with alarming speed and precision. He rubbed the spot the fist had been aiming for and shot the girl a highly offended glare. “ _Christ_ _Daph_ , I was only taking the piss!”

“You should be grateful it wasn’t a hex.” She simpered and tucked a silky strand of dark hair behind one diamond studded ear as Zabini smirked beside her.  “I’ve been working on my _densaugeo_ all summer and I’ve been absolutely  _dying_ to try it out on a deserving foe _._ ”

The three of them were tucked away in their favorite cart towards the back of the train, close enough to the Slytherin section as was required but still blessedly far enough from any prying ears. Whenever a non-snake or a curious first year wandered toward their compartment door, Daphne’s fierce glare and Blaise’s raised wand had them scampering away, back into safer waters.

The last three train carts were all decidedly Slytherin and any attempts at inter-house unity or fraternizing with undesirables would have to be done up front in more neutral territory. Harry slumped back into the cushioned seats and worked at fastening his cuff links _(a pair of impressive silver pythons with glinting emerald eyes gifted to him in fourth year by his godfather Sirius)._  

“You’re dropping Transfiguration then? Maybe I’ll finally get a seatmate who can carry their own weight.” Blaise plucked a nonexistent piece of lent from his own impeccably pressed shirt and leveled an unimpressed grimace at Harry’s unkempt state of dress. “Could your shirt possibly be more wrinkled? I'm not sure if the laws of Magic would even allow it. Truly Potter it’s like you live in a bin.” The other boy was well coiffed as usual and smoothed the already starched slacks of his uniform to drive that fact home. One of Blaise’s very favorite pastimes was to regularly remind Harry of his low pedigree and general uncouth nature, an act so reliable it was written into the very fabric of their friendship. 

“Sorry we can’t all be posh prats with an army of house elves to do the washing. If I’m really offending your delicate sensibilities and you’d like to do a pressing charm _be my guest_.” 

“How can someone incapable of simple laundering charms is supposed to be the savior of the Wizarding World is beyond me.” Daphne declared. “If the Daily Prophet could truly see how incomprehensibly incompetent your truly are they’d know we’re good and well fucked.” She rolled her eyes and flicked her wand _(twelve inches of strong Apple Wood with the spine of a White River Monster at its core, a rare but particularly powerful combination)_ in Harry’s direction with a bored wave of her hand “ _Torcular vestimentum.”_

The shirt smoothed itself neatly, wrinkles disappearing and the limp collar starching itself into something far more respectable. The crumpled cuffs straightened and refastened cheerfully, silver cufflinks twinkling under the overhead lights. “Cheers Daph.” He started work at knotting the silky silver and green striped Slytherin tie around his neck.

“Better. Still undoubtedly hopeless, but not a complete lost cause.” Blaise nodded, a rare glint of approval in his eyes. “I suppose this means you won’t have time for us anymore? Now that you’re a big man taking seventh year Alchemy. Surely you'll forget about your lowly lackeys wasting away in sixth year Herbology.”

“Whatever will we do without our fearless leader to guide us.” Daphne drawled sardonically and twirled hey wand effortlessly between two deft fingers, eyes filled with obvious skepticism. “Think of the trouble we’ll get into without your _wizened_ leadership oh great one.’

“I imagine you’ll be fine. I’ve raised you well enough my children, go forth, _prosper_.” 

Blaise was about to retort when their bickering was interrupted by a harried knock and the mechanical sliding of the compartment door. It was Hermione Granger looking both frustrated and apprehensive, kitted still in her ugly Muggle sweater _(maroon was not her color)_ and jeans, trying her hardest to come off stern and failing miserably. 

“Potter can I speak with you a moment?” She raised her brows imploringly and narrowed her eyes at Harry in a way that was both vaguely threatening and terribly amusing. No matter how hard she attempted, Hermione Granger did not have an intimidating presence. 

“What’s the matter Granger? Were we laughing too loud?” Daphne pouted, resting her pointed chin in one delicate palm and blinking up at Hermione, the picture of innocence _(or a very good imitation of it_ ). “Your prefect senses must have been absolutely _tingling_ from all the merriment.”

“Quite the opposite Greengrass. It’s hard to imagine you lot laughing at all in fact.”                                                             

“You flatter us.” Blaise did something with his mouth that was almost a smirk but not quite there, the rest of his handsome face as smooth and apathetic as ever. He sunk back further into his seat, draped his arm languidly around Daphne’s thin shoulders and let his heavy-lidded hazel eyes drift over Hermione’s stiff form in a cool challenge. “My mother says laughter is a sign of the dimwitted. And it’s _dreadfully_ aging. Maybe you ought consider-”

Harry rose quickly onto his feet. “Alright we’ll chat in the hall then!”

They had scarcely shut the door behind them when Granger whirled around, hands planted firmly on her hips and a fierce scowl marring her _(not overall bad, he decided, almost pretty in a very uncomplicated way)_ features. 

“You were supposed to meet in our compartment first thing! I’ve been searching the train for you all afternoon.”

“Christ Granger.” Harry leaned back against the wood paneling of the trains corridor lazily and folded his arms across his chest in a way that he knew was both particularly fetching _(something both Blaise and Daphne had said repeatedly)_ and infuriating _(something both Blaise and Daphne had also said repeatedly)_. He smiled at her, mouth turned up in a rakish grin. “Did you miss me already then? It’s only been a few days.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips looking significantly put out.  “We _agreed_ first thing!”

Harry shrugged. “What would you have me do, ignore my constituents? You’ve got me now Granger, lead the way.”

Granger let out an exasperated groan but complied, gesturing hurriedly for him to follow. They made their way through the cramped train dodging curious glances as they did so _(the act itself not nearly as shocking as the players involved, he assumed)_. Harry slung an arm around her narrow shoulders, leaned in conspiratorially and waggled his eyebrows, surely feeding the gossip train.

_“You think we’ll make the front page then?”_  

The resulting elbow to ribs had not been worth the joke he decided.

They arrived at a compartment nestled deep in the Gryffindor section of the train closer to the front cars. As Harry has suspected, a few of the other occupants of the car were not in the least pleased to see him. Weasley’s face, which had been cheerful only moments earlier, was stony as they slid open the door. There were five of them there nestled together, both Weasleys, Lovegood, Longbottom and of course Granger, sliding into the empty seat between either redhead.

Lovegood perked up, sliding her blue bug eyes glasses from the bridge of her narrow nose up to the top of her head. “Hello Harry.” She said kindly, in that dreamy voice of hers, and raised one hand in a listless, limp-wristed wave, colorful bracelets sliding down her thin arm noisily to gather at her elbow. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“Not bad love. Would have been better with a visit from you.”

Luna giggled wildly and shook her head in amusement, loose white blonde curls escaping from her tangled bun to hang around her eerily pale face. Weasley seemed vaguely nauseous at her enthusiasm. “Daddy sends along his regards.”                           

“Send him my thanks. Good to see you as well Longbottom. How’s your Gran doing?” 

“Well enough Harry, thanks for asking.” Neville looked undoubtedly chuffed at being directly addressed. “I’ll send her your regards as well.”

He sat down between the two _(the carts only unoccupied seat)_ and nodded at Hermione.

“Now that you’ve got me Granger.” Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his slacks _(he could practically feel Blaise’s exasperation from about ten train cars away)_ , tone perfectly polite and almost offensively sweet. “What could _possibly_ be so urgent?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 Y/N?


End file.
